


You And Me Against The World

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry and Niall are cute, Harry is just some dude that he meets one day, M/M, Niall is the pastor's son, but no name calling or anything like that, his dad is homophobic, there are mentions of it, there's not much homophobia, they share secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:36:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One and a half months. That’s how long it took Niall to fall in love. Or maybe he fell in love the minute he saw that boy crossing the street. Either way, Niall – the pastor’s son, the perfect Catholic schoolboy (or so everyone thinks) – fell in love with a boy. A boy that showed him there shouldn’t be such thing as illegal love, that you are not constricted to the beliefs of your family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You And Me Against The World

It’s Sunday. Niall has a love-hate relationship with Sunday. Sunday means church and praying and brunch with his dad and more praying. Sunday means no TV and no friends and no anything but praying basically. So, yeah, scratch that; Niall just plain hates Sundays. Don’t get him wrong, he’s religious – yes, he believes in God – but he doesn’t see why the amount of hours you pray should reflect how strong your faith is.

He’s standing outside the church right now, waiting for his dad to come through and unlock the doors for him, when he sees a hunched-over boy taking his good old time crossing the road. _Right,_ he thinks, _make it impossible for those people to get to work_. He looks at the growing line of cars and shakes his head.

“Hey, mate,” he calls to the boy just as he’s crossing the two yellow lines, “there are some people waiting if you don’t mind moving a little faster.”

The boy turns around but doesn’t look at Niall. “I can’t,” is all he says as he clutches his right side.

“Oh,” he whispers and rushes out into the middle of the road towards the boy. “Do you need any help?” he asks, sticking his hand out but not touching him out of fear of making his apparent pain worse.

The boy says something but his face is contorted in pain and Niall can’t understand him.

“Look, why don’t you just put your arm around me and I can help you across, yeah?” Niall says gently and the boy hesitates a moment before obliging.

They walk across the rest of the road like that – the boy’s arm hooked around Niall’s waist, and Niall’s arm draped across the boy’s shoulders – and as soon as they get to the other side, all the cars go speeding by so fast he’d think they were being chased. It’s a little rude after all: the boy is clearly in pain.

“Are you okay?” Niall asks. “Where does it hurt?”

“I’m fine.” The boy doesn’t look like he’s willing to give anything else away, though the pain is still clear as day on his face.

“Are you sure, mate? Because you don’t look like you’re fine.” Niall presses and the boy gives him a look he really doesn’t want to see on his face ever again. If he’s even going to see him ever again. Niall shakes his head. “What’s your name?”

“Harry,” the boy whispers, still clutching his right side.

“Well, Harry, I’m Niall, and though these are pretty bad circumstances, it’s nice to meet you.”

Harry stares at him for a bit and he looks like he’s finally about to say something, but Niall’s dad chooses this moment to finally unlock the door.

“Niall! Get in here and help me set up the altar,” his dead yells from across the street.

Niall nods to him and then looks back at Harry. “I, um, I have to go.”

“You go to that church?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, my dad’s the pastor there, so I kind of have to.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Niall says slowly. “Just don’t understand it sometimes.”

Harry nods like he knows exactly how he feels. “Me neither,” he whispers.

“Alright,” Niall says a little awkwardly, “well, I’m gonna go now, but try to get home and lie down or something. Maybe go to the doctor. Just,” he pauses, “feel better?” he says a little uncertainly.

“Yeah, okay, Niall.”

And with that, Niall gives Harry a little wave and walks back across the street and inside the church.

-

One and a half hours, one very long sermon from his dad, and many hugs from the other people in the congregation later, Niall is stumbling out of the church doors and into a place where he can finally breathe. He takes in a deep breath and goes to head towards his car when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“So,” his dad says and Niall has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Who was that boy you were talking to earlier?”

“He was just,” Niall glances across the street to where he had sat next to Harry on the sidewalk and his breath gets caught in his throat. He can’t breathe here anymore. Harry’s still lying on the sidewalk in the same position he was in when Niall left him before. “Harry?” he calls out. Harry doesn’t respond. “Uh, sorry dad, but I have to go,” Niall says but he’s already halfway to Harry by the time he finishes his sentence.

He kneels down next to him and looks at his face. His eyes are closed and his lips are parted. _Ok_ , Niall thinks, _he’s alive thank God_. “Harry? Harry, can you hear me?” Did he pass out? Is he okay? Niall doesn’t even know this boy, but _God_ is he worried about him.

He grabs Harry’s shoulders and shakes him gently, mindful of the way he was holding his side earlier. “Harry?”

His eyes flutter but they don’t open.

Niall runs a hand through his hair. “Harry!” he says a little louder now.

“What?” he grumbles. “I’m just sleeping. God, what are you doing, Niall?”

“Sleeping?” Niall says incredulously. “On the side of the road? For an hour and a half?”

“I didn’t know you’d be in church that long,” Harry says weakly.

Niall freezes. “You waited out here for me?”

“Yeah,” Harrys says simply, like he thought Niall knew that. Because he just told him that.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t walk on my own and I need you to help me home.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible person,” Niall says.

“You go to church,” Harry says like it’s the end of the discussion, and by the way he wraps his arm around Niall’s waist and looks at him expectantly, Niall guesses it is.

He leads Harry over to his car and helps him into the passenger seat. “What’s the address?” he asks him, pulling out his phone so he can program it in. Harry rattles off his house number and street name and then Niall’s driving off.

-

“Do you need anything?” Niall asks after he’s helped Harry settle onto his bed. His apartment is in a pretty nice part of town, and by the looks of it, Harry isn’t as poor as one would assume if they saw him lying on the sidewalk for an hour and a half today. He’s got a decent sized room with clothes and records lying all over the floor. Niall looks around and spies a record player in the corner of the room. He nods to himself in approval. He’s always thought that music sounded better coming from a record.

“Some water, if you don’t mind,” Harry says, looking up at Niall. “I’ve got these pills, but I’m shit at taking them without something to wash them down.”

Niall nods and makes his way to the kitchen and fills up a glass. He comes back in to see Harry has taken his shirt off. “Whoa,” he says when he spots the purple bruises littering the right side of Harry’s torso. “Oh, my gosh, are you okay? That’s a stupid question. Of course you’re not okay. Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can get you? Seriously, I can –”

“Niall,” Harry cuts his rambling off and tries to sit up a bit so he can take his pills and drink his water. Niall loops an arm around his middle and helps him up. “Thanks,” he mumbles before he pops the pills in his mouth. “There’s actually something you could do for me,” he says.

“Anything,” Niall rushes out because he doesn’t even know Harry but he’s one hundred percent positive he’d do anything for him. It’s just how he was raised he guesses.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“Sorry?”

“Tell me about yourself,” Harry repeats. “I’d like to get to know the boy that got me off the side of the road and is now standing in my bedroom.” Niall looks around, incredulous. “Speaking of,” Harry says, “you can sit down. I’m not gonna bite your arm off or anything.”

Niall takes a seat next to Harry’s legs. He figures if Harry was going to do anything to him, he would’ve done it by now. Also, he’s not really in any state to be hurting people and Niall thinks he’s a pretty good guy anyway, though he’s never seen him at church. “What do you want to know?” he asks.

Harry bites his lip, thinking. “Let’s see. Tell me about your family. But not boring stuff like listing off your siblings and your parents’ jobs. Tell me their weird habits and all the things you love about them. Or don’t love about them, I’m not picky. Tell me about you. Your passions, your aspirations, your likes and dislikes. But I swear to God if you just talk about your favourite colour, I’ll kick you out.” Harry looks at him seriously, but then his face is breaking out into a smile and Niall can’t help but return it.

“Okay,” he says simply and takes a deep breath. He’s been doing that a lot today, hasn’t he? “We’ll start off with the easy stuff I guess. I’ve got one older brother, Greg, and he’s a mess. He’s like a tornado: he wrecks everything without even trying. I don’t understand it.  As for my mom, she’s the sweetest person you’ll ever meet. She’ll hug complete strangers. She sees the best in everyone and I guess that’s why she puts up with all of us. I would’ve left years ago if I were her. My dad…” Niall stops. He doesn’t even know what to say. He looks at Harry and sees him staring at him.

“Yeah?” he asks gently.

“He may be the pastor, but he’s a right git. Alcoholic. Don’t know how he lives this double life – pastor by day, drunk by night – but he does it pretty well. Everyone at church thinks we’re the perfect Catholic family, but if they only knew. I can’t wait till I’m eighteen. I’m getting out of here as fast as I can, Goddammit.”

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” Harry says.

“What?”

“The Ten Commandments.”

“Yeah, I know what it’s from, but why did you say that?”

“Because you’re super religious?”

“Not really,” Niall mumbles. He’s never told anyone what he actually believes.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, clearly confused.

“It’s mostly an act for my dad,” he admits. “I go to church and I believe in God, but I don’t agree with some of the things the church teaches.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, anyway, I’ve never actually told anyone that,” Niall confesses. It feels unbelievably good to finally get it off his chest. He’s tired of playing this game for his dad.

“Well thanks for trusting someone you barely know enough to tell them,” Harry smiles.

“Of course.”

“Okay, continue. Your passions? Aspirations?” Harry presses.

“I play the guitar. Taught myself, actually. It calms the nerves, y’know? I started when I was about twelve. I saw an old guitar at a yard sale and begged my mum to get it for me. She did, obviously. It’s helped me a lot actually. What with my dad and my brother and all. As for aspirations? I want to get as far away from here as I can. Start over, maybe. Forget my dad and what he’s become, what I’m afraid I’ll become if I stay here any longer. Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe. I’ll be sitting in church and he’ll be talking about what’s wrong with the world and I’ll just get so angry with him. Because I don’t think the world is a bad place. God created it after all. It’s beautiful and so are the people He’s put on it. I just think my dad doesn’t get that. He’s the opposite of my mom really, always seeing the bad in people, thinking they’re sent straight from the devil to test our faith. But everything isn’t a test of faith. Sometimes you just have to live, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. He’s got a look in his eyes that Niall can’t really put his finger on. “I do,” he says sincerely. “You wanna know my backstory?” he asks.

“It’s only fair,” Niall states.

“My dad took off when I was about five. Can’t say it really bothers me since I don’t remember him much. From what you’ve told me, my mom’s a lot like yours. She’s always the optimist. Even when her husband picked up and left and her only daughter moved away to America. Gemma. That’s my sister. She’s not a tornado like Greg, but she’s definitely a storm. So, it’s just my mom and I here. I cook dinner most of the time. Bake occasionally, too. I make a killer birthday cake,” he says seriously and Niall can’t help but laugh.

He laid down next to Harry while he was talking and he can feel his bare skin pressing against him through his thin button-up shirt.

“I think I want to be a writer,” Harry says, his voice much softer now. “I’ve got about nine books full of poems and songs and stuff. Writing for me is kind of like playing the guitar for you. It calms me down and helps me sort through what I’m feeling. I won my fair share of contests back when I used to submit my work to things like that.”

“Why’d you stop?” Niall asks him.

 “Because they’re my words, y’know? They’re for me, sometimes my mom or Gemma. But other than them, I don’t share them with anyone anymore,” Harry says, turning to Niall.

“Would you share them with me?” he asks shyly.

Harry doesn’t answer, just gets off the bed (with help from Niall, his side is still killing him despite the pills he took) and goes over to the large brown desk against the wall. He picks up a tattered looking brown book and walks back over to the bed. He lies down and flips it open, handing it to Niall once he finds the page he’s looking for.

Niall looks at Harry and then at the words on the page:

_But you’re holding a permanent marker and all I’ve got is a pencil so maybe I was in way over my head when I felt the first tell-tale flutter in my chest as you walked by but I’ve always loved the burn of the heat and God knows you were a wildfire._

“Harry,” Niall breathes once he’s finished reading, “this is beautiful.”

Harry takes the book from his hands and sets it on the bedside table. He looks at Niall’s eyes and whispers a _thank you_.

“Niall,” Harry says.

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, I feel like I need to tell you that, um –”

“Hey, you don’t have to feel like you need to tell me anything. I mean, we just met and we’ve already told each other things we’ve probably never told anyone else, but that doesn’t mean you have to share all your secrets with me. It’s fine, Harry,” Niall says truthfully because he loves talking to Harry, but he doesn’t want him to tell him anything he doesn’t really want to.

“No,” Harry says confidently, “I want to tell you this.”

“Okay,” Niall says, ready to hear whatever it is Harry’s about to tell him.

“I’m gay,” he says.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, that’s fine, yeah. I’m not really homophobic it’s just… I’ve always been told that being gay was wrong, that loving someone of the same sex was a sin,” Niall says, not looking Harry in the eyes anymore, looking anywhere but his eyes really.

“I don’t think loving someone should ever be a sin,” Harry whispered. “If you love someone, you should be able to shout it from the rooftops, not have to hide away in your room because some people aren’t going to like it.”

And, wow, okay. Niall’s really thinking about how it would feel to shout the name of the person he loved from a rooftop. The crazy thing?  He’s only just met Harry and even though he’s never had a problem with gay people (despite the constant hounding from his dad that they’re “evil”), he’s sort of surprised when it’s Harry’s name he hears spilling from his lips. But he’s not afraid or ashamed of these thoughts that he’s having. Because just this one conversation with Harry was enough to change something inside him and he agrees with him: loving shouldn’t be a sin. There should be no such thing as illegal love.

And if Niall texts his mom and tells her he’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight and then proceeds to fall asleep next to Harry, no one really needs to know that his heart was pounding the whole time.

-

After that day when Niall took Harry home, they’ve fallen into a rhythm. Harry will wait outside the church for Niall and Niall will stay over at his house every Sunday night, sleeping in the same bed. Harry knows him better than anyone now, and it’s only been a month and a half. Niall’s never felt like this before, but he’s pretty sure he’s fallen a little in love with him.

Lying on his bed at home, he remembers meeting Harry’s mom for the first time:

“Come on, she’ll love you,” Harry told him.

Niall scoffed. “Of course she’ll love me. Everyone loves me,” he said as he shoved Harry playfully. His side had long since healed. (And Niall finally found out what happened. Harry thought it would be a good idea for him to try skateboarding. So he went to the skate park and tried it out, but he ended up sucking and running into a guy there. Niall thinks it goes without saying that the guy beat him up.)

They stumbled through the door together and Niall stopped short when he saw the woman standing in the front hall. She was beautiful. And he could tell she was Harry’s mom just by looking at her. “Hello, I’m Niall,” he introduced himself and stuck out his hand. He didn’t know if he should really be shaking her hand, but he didn’t have to when she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Her hug felt just like Harry’s and he hooked his chin over her shoulder.

“Hi, Niall,” she said kindly after pulling away. “Harry has told me a lot about you.” Niall glanced at Harry standing behind him. Harry winked. Niall laughed and looked back to his mom. “I’m Anne. It’s lovely to finally meet you and put a face to all the great things Harry’s always saying about you over dinner.”

Niall smirked and looked at Harry again. “Really? He talks about me that much?”

“Of course,” Harry spoke up. “Now, mum, we’re gonna go upstairs, okay?” he said but he’d already grabbed Niall’s wrist and dragging him up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Okay, boys,” Anne said. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

He stops smiling when he hears a knock at his bedroom door. He glances over. “Dad,” he says loudly, “I already told you that I ate earlier. I’m not hungry.”

“Darn, I brought pizza and everything,” Harry says as he steps through the door.

Niall looks over at him. “No you didn’t,” he says when he sees Harry’s not carrying a pizza box, or anything for that matter.

“Yeah, you’re right, I didn’t bring pizza.”

Niall laughs and lies back down as Harry sits on the bed beside his feet.

“But,” Harry says, “I did come here for a reason.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“I want to come to church with you tomorrow.”

Niall sits up and looks at Harry. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know really. I just wanted to come with you to hear what you believe in and see what makes you mad while your dad’s talking,” he says.

“Okay,” Niall says uneasily. He has enough trouble breathing in church when he’s sitting by himself, but with Harry beside him – a boy he might just be absolutely in love with – sat beside him, he might suffocate. But of course he says he can come with him, like what he had to say was going to change Harry’s mind anyway.

-

It’s Sunday again. A month and a half after the one when Niall first met Harry. Now they’re sat next to each other in a pew near the back of the church instead of sprawled on the sidewalk. Niall’s dad is droning on and on about how they must pray the rosary in order to stop the spread of homosexuality. Like it’s some sort of disease. Niall’s lost track of how many times he’s rolled his eyes or clenched his fist. Harry will look at him from time to time and whisper for him to calm down, but Niall doesn’t know how this isn’t bothering him.

Niall takes a deep breath, but the air is just as stuffy as it’s been since the moment he stepped foot inside the church. He coughs to try to clear his throat, but it’s blocked and his eyes are going wide and his chest is heaving with the effort he’s putting into breathing.

“Hey,” Harry says worriedly. “Hey, Niall, are you okay?”

“Can’t,” Niall gasps out. “Can’t breathe.”

“Okay, okay, just,” Harry stands up and motions for Niall to do the same. He does. “Just, come on, let’s go outside.” He leads him out the back doors of the church and into the open air. “Better?” he asks.

Niall clutches at his chest and inhales a long breath. He chokes on the air and closes his eyes. He’s felt like he’s suffocating before, but he’s never had anything like this happen. His eyes are starting to water but he keeps them scrunched shut.

“Here,” Harry says, handing him something. “Try this.”

Niall finally opens his eyes to see Harry’s stuffed an inhaler into his palm. Niall takes a hit and instantly feels better. He takes a second one just in case. “Thanks,” he tells Harry, not giving the inhaler back just yet. “You never told me you had asthma.”

“Neither did you,” Harry retorts.

“Didn’t really know,” Niall says sheepishly. “Knew I had trouble breathing sometimes, but I never thought I had asthma. I just thought I couldn’t deal with my dad’s stupidity. Speaking of that,” Niall turns towards Harry and looks him in the eyes, “I’m sorry for all the stuff he said back there. It’s not right, none of it.”

“Some of it’s right,” Harry says and Niall gives him a disbelieving look. “I mean, yeah, all the stuff about homosexuality, that wasn’t right. That was just plain rude, if you ask me. But the stuff about God loving everyone that he said before he started to spread hate, that was true. At least, I think it’s true. I believe God loves everyone no matter what.”

“Me too,” Niall says. “Now, I know we didn’t even get to receive communion, but do you wanna get out of here? Go back to yours early?” he asks.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Harry says and follows Niall to his car.

-

“So, let me get this straight,” Harry says, “you don’t think _you’re_ straight?”

They’re lying on Harry’s bed with those mini microwavable pizza things – what are they called again? Bagel Bites – and Niall’s thinking through some things aloud.

“Bi probably. I mean, I’ve never really thought about it. My dad’s always assumed I was straight because, well, because he’s him, so I never questioned it. But now,” he stops and looks at Harry. He’s picking the little pepperoni pieces off his Bagel Bite and flicking them into the trash can. Even when he’s being disgusting Niall thinks he’s the most beautiful thing in the world. “Now, I don’t think I am.”

Harry looks up and sees that Niall’s already looking at him. He looks back down. “What opened your eyes?” Niall snorts. “So to speak,” Harry adds.

“You,” Niall answers honestly. Harry looks up again and holds Niall’s eyes this time. “You opened my eyes, as you put it. With your views on things and your curls and your stupid dimples. And you came into my life as this weirdo that couldn’t cross the street and slept on the sidewalk but –”

“I had two bruised ribs!” Harry says indignantly.

Niall gives him a look. “But you’re so much more than that now. I’ve told you so many things I hadn’t been able to tell anyone before. You told me a lot of things too and that must’ve taken a lot of trust. And it’s only been a month and a half dammit but I need you, and I don’t know, I’m pretty sure you need me too. Who else is supposed to listen to you go on and on about the cat you used to have when you were two?”

Harry laughs and throws a pillow at him. “I loved that cat,” he says.

“You were two,” Niall says again. “You probably don’t even remember that cat. Anyway, I don’t know when it happened, maybe it was when I first looked into your eyes as you laid on the sidewalk, but I’m in love with you. I love you a lot and I don’t care what my dad or anyone else will say and I don’t care that people won’t like it because I don’t want to hide away in my bedroom anymore. I want to scream your name from the rooftops,” Niall says, referring to that first conversation they had one and a half months ago. “I love you. It’s you I want; only you and it’s been you for a while and I just… it feels right when I’m with you, when we’re lying in your bed talking about anything and everything. And everything smells different, too, and I don’t know what it is, but all I know is that I never want it to go away. My room smells like you and I love it, I love your scent and I love coming home to your scent and I’d love to come home to you. Every day I want to come home to you or with you or anything. Just anything as long as I have you. I’m in love with you, Harry, and it doesn’t hurt. It feels fucking amazing.”

Niall finishes his – really long, now that he’s thinking over it – speech and takes a breath. It gets caught in his throat and he pulls out Harry’s inhaler that he kept in his pocket from this morning.

Harry laughs at him. “You just swore,” he says.

“What?”

“You said fuck.”

“Wow. I just poured my heart out to you and all you can think about is how I said fuck?” Niall asks. He shakes his head and takes a hit from the inhaler.

“No, that’s not all I can think about,” Harry says with a serious look. “It’s one of the things, yeah.” Niall glares at him and he laughs. “You’re in love with me. The pastor’s son, the perfect boy that goes to church every Sunday and says his prayers is in love with me. Granted, that same boy also disagreed with half of the “holy” things his father said,” Harry stops talking to stroke his chin like he’s thinking. “Well, Niall, I’m in love with you too.”

“Thank God,” Niall says under his breath.

“Yes,” Harry says reverently, “thank you Lord.”

Niall punches his arm and lets out a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“Can I be your idiot?”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Don’t do stuff like that. Don’t say things like that. It’s too corny for me.”

“I thought you said you liked corn.”

“The food,” Niall says and Harry shrugs.

“Same difference.”

“No, not really,” he says with a laugh. “But yeah, you’re my idiot.”

“Good. Now, kiss me,” Harry says, sitting up and scooting closer to Niall.

So Niall does kiss him. And he kisses him for a good hour and a half. Until he gets a text.

_Niall, are you staying at Harry’s again tonight? –Mum xox_

_Yeah, I think I am :) see you tomorrow mum_

_You boys be good ;)_

He shows Harry his phone. “What’s that supposed to mean? And why is my mum using a winky face?”

“How well does your mum know you?” Harry asks.

“Really well I guess, why?”

Harry laughs. “She totally knows you’re in love with me,” he says and Niall smiles.

“Yeah, I’m in love with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> that description, that was horrible. that sucked. the story, i've had this idea for a while and i wrote some of the dialogue like a year and a half ago. hope you liked it :)


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